


Journeys

by PlusSizePrettyGirl (Elanderson85)



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elanderson85/pseuds/PlusSizePrettyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are focused and hard working, struggling with finding a balance between work and life. One night, while up for a midnight snack you meet a familiar face. While you are apprehensive and trying to work through personal matters, you are drawn to him, against your better judgement. The journey that comes is rough, but well worth it. </p><p>This is written more like a stream of consciousness of the reader. </p><p>This is going to be a slow burn, but I promise I am leading to some amazing scenes. Stick with me and I won't let you down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hesitations

**Author's Note:**

> Introductions to Ben and the life of our lead.

I hate airports. The past 7 years has seen me spend 80 percent of my life in airports and on airplanes, and I absolutely hate it. This time, it’s London for a week. While the perk of travelling the world doesn’t escape me, my work keeps me from sleeping more than 4 nights at a time in my own bed. At least they put me up in beautiful hotels.  
As the taxi driver removed my bag from the trunk in front of the Conrad, I noticed an increased number of security around the hotel. 

“Excuse me Miss, would you be so kind as to provide me with the name your reservation is under?” A tall man in a well-tailored suit asked as I attempted to enter the front door of the hotel.

“Sure, why the new security measures?” I told him my name as he scrolled through his iPad and found my reservation. 

“The hotel is hosting a function for some very prestigious guests.”

He ushered me through the door and continued to screen the next patron. 

After checking in, I made my way up to my room, with the view of Westminster, completely jetlagged, I threw my clothes to the floor and fell into the bed. I needed to eat, but couldn’t fathom trying to navigate through the circus happening in the foyer again. Bed it is. I set my alarm for 3 hours from now in the hopes that I would be able to order room service and fall back asleep.

God, I hate the sound of this alarm. I guess that’s what makes it so effective at its job. I found my blouse and jeans I had tossed off when I entered the room, grabbed my room key and made my way downstairs.

“I need a glass of wine… I need a bottle of wine….” Yawning as the elevator door opened on the lobby, I made my way to the hotel restaurant and found a seat at the bar. I always liked this restaurant. It was for guests of the hotel only, which kept it intimate and never crowded. I looked around and noticed 10 other people enjoying a late night drink and snack; it was nice to not be alone in that.

Ordering a glass of CabSav and asking the bartender to leave the bottle, I opened my phone and began to scroll through my work emails, it never ends. 

“Your plan is to drink the entire bottle?”

I looked up from my phone, still not making eye contact with the stranger who dared questioned my choice of a liquid dinner and answered, “yep.” 

Dropping my eyes back down, from the corner of my eye I saw him reach up to pick up the bottle, and fill my glass a bit more, “well, I should be a gentleman and help you with your mission.”

“Listen, I’m fine. I’d rather not have to engage in false and forced conversation. I’m tired, I’m jetlagged, there are, what feels like, intruders in my favorite home away from home, and all I want to do is drink this bottle of wine, scroll mindlessly through my phone, stumble to my room, and pass out.” I, finally, turned and looked into eyes that seemed a pale green, but as the dim light reflected in them turned light blue. I was caught off guard as I looked at him, recognizing his face, but unable to place from where. 

He noticed. He noticed my guard was down and he saw the wheels in my head turning, “yes, you have everything figured out for the night it seems.”

“I- I’m just tired. Where do I know you from?”

The laugh that followed was deep and hearty, “I’m not sure. I suppose it could be a number of places, love. What was the last movie you watched?”

I wasn’t in the mood to answer meaningless questions and I could feel his demeanor become more jovial, something I didn’t have the energy to handle, “nevermind. I thought I knew you, but-“

“My apologies. I’m called Ben. I’m an actor, I’ve been in a couple of stage plays, some movies, a television show, that is quite popular here, Sherlock-“

“Oh shit….” It hit me immediately, “yes! Hi. Oh no. I’ve been such a bitch. Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m so sorry. I’ve had a long flight from Chicago, and working a lot lately…. Please, let me pour you a glass of wine?” 

“Sure, that would be lovely.” He smiled and motioned for the bartender to bring another glass.

Benedict Cumberbatch. Sitting next to me at a hotel bar in London. I’m not a huge fan, but I know some of his work, and understand the star power that comes along with his name. He was charming, he was polite, and he lightened my mood.

After an hour of conversation, learning about the benefit gala that was held at the hotel earlier, talking about my work, his work, and finishing two bottles of red wine, I knew my night needed to end. 

“Benedict--“

“Ben, please.”

“Ben, I’ve got to go to bed. I have to be at our satellite office here at 7:30. This has been amazing, and I am not blind to how rare this is and how many people would love to spend the night up, chatting with you. But, I have to go.” 

“I, completely, understand. I have one request of you; please join me for dinner one evening before you head back home?” 

I hate airports. But more than airports, I hate dates. And now, in my 25th hour of the same clothes, hair, and make up, a Hollywood bachelor is asking me on a date.  
“I, umm, I dunno.” 

Dramatically grabbing his chest as if his heart was breaking, “Ouch! Darling, you really know how to break a man’s confidence.”

“No,” I chuckled, “I just don’t know which evening I’d have time. I wouldn’t know until hours before. I know that’s not helpful. And, I’m sure your schedule is much busier than mine, but this trip is pretty jam packed….”

He placed his hand over mine, “I’ll send you a text and you just call me when you know what evening will be best. My week can become as flexible as I need it.”

“You don’t have my number, how will you text me?” I asked, a slow smile forming across my face.

“Well, that is a problem. I suppose, you’d have to give me your mobile number.” He looked at me matter of factly as he fished his phone from his pocket.

“You’re lucky I’m tired. I can’t even argue with you.” I laughed and typed my number into his phone. “Goodnight Ben. It was a real treat getting the opportunity to chat with you. Enjoy your evening.”

I turned, walked out the exit and towards the elevators. As I pressed the ‘up’ button, my phone dinged with a message,

Ben: My evening has been quite enjoyable. I’ll wait patiently for your correspondence this week. Goodnight (Y/N).  
…

Work. If I never hear the words ‘Human Potential’ or ‘Human Capital’ again, it would be too soon. I never thought I’d become a corporate recruiter. ‘Headhunting’ is not something I dreamed of as a little girl on the South side of Chicago in the late 80’s. Yet, here I am. One of the top recruiters for some of the biggest companies and conglomerates in the world. The pay and perks are phenomenal, but it, kind of, makes me miserable. 

It’s been three days since my chance run-in with Benedict. I’ve left work after 9 each evening, and hadn’t contacted him. To be fair, he hadn’t contacted me either. I’m leaving in two days, I should make an effort to be social. 

Me: Hi. It’s (Y/N). We met a couple of nights ago at the Conrad. 

Do I send this? What good could come from this? I need to be very upfront and clear about my intentions. What are my intentions? Fuck it. Send.  
He won’t respond until tomorrow, if he does at all. It’s been three days, I’m sure he has moved on from whatever mood he was in that night. My phone dings,

Ben: Hello. Yes, I am well aware of who you are. I’m happy that you’ve found some time to grab a bite to eat. Though, I must admit, it’s later than I would have hoped. Shall I meet you at your hotel before we head out?

Oh. He is ready right now. I’m in a Chicago Bulls t-shirt and have just washed all the make-up off my face. I guess I could…no. Stick with the plan. You can see him tomorrow.

Me: Actually, I’m already in bed. Your patience hasn’t gone unnoticed. Hoping you can be patient for one more day. Tomorrow evening, maybe?  
Ben: I’m glad my patience is earning me kudos with you. I will continue to show resolve. Yes, tomorrow evening will be fine. I’ll be in the hotel lobby at 7.  
Me: 8:30.  
Ben: Goodnight; I will see you at 8:30.

OK. I have a date tomorrow… I have four meetings tomorrow. Sleep. Just go to sleep and tackle tomorrow when it gets here.   
…

Longest day ever. I swear, we meet to talk about our next meeting. Just give me my clients and let me do my job. I’m exhausted. I need to pack and get on a plane at 10am tomorrow. Maybe I should text Ben and tell we should try to catch up next time. Or not. It’s not like this could be anything. I’ve got too much shit going on. No. You always do that. Have some fun. Don’t just go to London and only visit the hotel and the office. Do something else. I’d have to pack, now. My phone dings with a text,

Ben: I’m headed your way. In the mood for anything particular for dinner? I haven’t gone to market yet, I thought we could do that together.

What? 

Me: I am a bit confused. I thought we were eating at the hotel restaurant.   
Ben: With your travels, I thought you might like a home cooked meal. Would you prefer the hotel restaurant?  
Me: No. I’d love a home cooked meal. Where would you cook it? I don’t have a full kitchen in my room.  
Ben: Yes, but I have one at my flat. 

Wait. What? His place? That seems… intimate. I wasn’t looking for intimate. I should cancel. It’s not the right time for this. Maybe, we can be friends. Yea. I can make a new friend. That way, when I’m in town I have someone to hang out with. Ok, sure. His place.

Me: Ok, I’ll be in the lobby in 20. See you soon!

Hurry and pack this mess up. Gotta be ready to jump on a plane first thing in the morning. Dammit, I left my laptop at the office. I’ll have to stop by on the way out tomorrow. 10 minutes. What should I do with my hair? Jeans, white t-shirt, no lace sneakers. Super casual. Like I would with any of my friends. Not that I get to see my friends that much anymore. I need to call Jess, her birthday is in two days. 5 minutes.

I make my way to the elevator bank and begin to feel my nerves kick in. Why are you nervous? Maybe not nervous. Why are you anxious? Whether he is your type or not, he is Benedict Cumberbatch. Oh my god. I’m intimidated by him. I’m not intimidated by anyone. The elevator doors open, and he is standing at the concierge desk talking casually to the hotel staff and signing a few autographs. 

Goddam. He looks good. Who knew that jeans, boots, and a gray v-neck could fit someone so well? 

“Hi.” I said with a smile.

“Hello. You look lovely…and comfortable.” He pulls me in for a hug. His lean body pressed against mine. I’m tall, 5’11, but he is taller. He smells like fresh laundry, right out the dryer. He is warm like it too.

“Shall we go?” Pulling away he extends his hand. I grab it and follow him through the lobby and the door. A bike sits out front, two helmets. 

“Umm… am I supposed to get on this? Where would we put groceries?”

He laughed that deep laugh of his, “trust me darling. This will be a fantastic journey.”


	2. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You run into Ben at an unexpected location after leaving him abruptly during a 'morning after'.

This apartment or ‘flat’ is insane. My loft back home is pretty nice, but this one beats it by miles. He is checking on the remoulade sauce. He insisted on making something that reminded me of home, so he is trying his hand at a shrimp jambalaya. Hopefully it’s good. He is cute for trying. 

“Are you enjoying the bourbon?” He walks over and sits on the arm of the sofa. 

“Yea. It’s good. Aged well… So, you really believe that the intentionality of an act outweighs the impact?” He wants to talk philosophical ideologies, he’s picked the wrong girl.

With a chuckle he sits his glass down, “so we are going to continue this conversation? Yes. I, happen, to believe that one’s intentions are what really matter. We cannot always predict or control the outcome, but if we go into an act with a pure heart then we have done no wrong to anyone.”

“That is crazy talk! So, if a terrorists has the intention of killing people with a bomb, but the bomb malfunctions, and instead, produces fireworks, then we should be ok with this individual? We should say, ‘oh, pretty fireworks, this is a good guy.’?”

Laughing again, “Are you attempting to discuss with me the proper way to handle global terrorists? That’s a first for me with woman.”

He thinks this is funny. “No,” I can’t help but laugh when I look at his amusement, “if we are going to be friends, I need to know how you view the world. How you view interpersonal interactions.”

He is moving to sit closer to me. Why is my breath shortening? 

“I do hope we are going to be friends… of some sorts.” His hand on my knee as I crossed my legs. 

“Dinner smells good, you should, probably, check on everything.”  
…

Damn. It’s after midnight. I’ve had two too many bourbons…and the wine with dinner. Now a fruit cordial. He is talking American politics. Listening to him dissect the circus that is American politics is amusing. His stake isn’t as rooted as mine, obviously. I’m a citizen and resident there. But he understands the landscape. I’m beginning to feel my mind swim. I want to lean in and kiss him. I need to go.

“Ben-“ I interrupt him abruptly, “what’s the address here? I need to call myself an Uber.”

“Oh. Well, it’s late. You can stay here and I will make sure to get you on your way in the morning. Your welcome to my bed, I can stay in the spare.”

“Umm… ok. I have to be at the airport by 8:30 and I need to stop by the hotel to grab my things, and then my office; I left my laptop earlier. So, just don’t let me sleep past 7. Please.”

I need to get out of the same room as him. The alcohol is making me bolder than I want to be. He is irresistible. Short auburn curls. Chiseled jaw. And his mouth. I want to feel it…..stop it. Get up and go to bed.

“The bedroom is this way, darling.” He stood up and took my hand. Can he hear my thoughts? 

“I’m sorry. I’ve had more to drink than I should have. Is this strange? Me staying in your bed? You should sleep in your bed, I can sleep in the guest room.”

“It’s not strange. After the conversations we’ve had tonight, I feel as though I have a proper grasp on who you are.” He looked back and smiled at me, “you are impossible to reason with. You are very stubborn. You are, incredibly passionate about doing ‘good’ in the world.”

Why are we stopped in the hallway? The hood of his eyes are lower than normal. 

“You are extremely sexy.”

“I—you are wonderful, as well.” I’m tongue tied. I want him to kiss me. 

“I’d like to kiss you now. Would that be alright?”

God, he can hear my thoughts, “Yes, that would be alright.”  
…

I hate the sound of this alarm. My head is killing me. Why did I drink so much? Is he in the bed next to me? When I turn over, I better be alone. Oh God….I’m not alone. Shit!  
Ok, just get up. You’ve got a, legitimate, excuse to leave without saying anything. You’ve got to get home. 

“Nothing happened…” his eyes still closed as he placed his hand on my lower back, “we kissed. We kissed quite a bit, but you were very clear that you weren’t ready for anything else. And, you, sort of, passed out.” His eyes sparkling blue and a smile across his lips.

“I’m so sorry, and really embarrassed. This is not how I saw last night going.”

“It’s perfectly fine. Listen, I’d really like to have you stay for breakfast. My assistant should be here soon. I spoke with her last night about bringing something over.”

“I can’t. I have this flight. I need to collect my life that is scattered over the city….” Why am I laughing? This is absurd. I’m lying in the bed with Benedict Cumberbatch and I am trying to leave.

“Emily will be here soon. Trust that I will have you on the way in a timely fashion.”

Breakfast was wonderful. And Ben makes the best cup of tea I’ve ever had. It’s 8am, I need to go. I’m going to miss my flight. 

“(Y/N), I know you are worried about missing your flight. Emily checked you out of your room. All of your things, including your laptop are in the foyer. Please, don’t worry. I told you, I would get you on your way in a timely manner. I am a man of my word. I’d, just, like to spend as much time with you before you need to leave.”

“Ben. I have to go. This has been wonderful. But, I think we both know this isn’t going anywhere. You are charming, and handsome, and talented, and sexy… but this is probably a bad idea..... Right?”  
…

I hate airports. Germany is fun though. I like Munich. It should be a good three days, with really good beer. Why is my luggage not here yet? What is all the commotion?   
And then, I see him. Walking out the terminal, pushing a luggage cart, Emily walking ahead of him. It’s been a month since I left his flat. We haven’t spoken. He didn’t call, or text. But, as always, to be fair, neither did I. Should I go say hi? Yea. Of course I should. What are the chances that we are both in Munich at the same time… in the airport?   
I see my bag rounding the carousel and I walk up to grab it. Turning around, I see the bright smile of Emily.

“Hello (Y/N)! How are you?”

“Emily?! Hi! Wha-what are you doing here?” Why is my voice an octave higher than normal? If he is here, he saw me.

“Ben is here for Oktoberfest with some friends. I came along to help with a few interviews, but am going on holiday the day after tomorrow. You? Work?” 

“Uh, yea. I’m here for three days. I’m sure it won’t be as fun as Oktoberfest or vacation, but, I like visiting Munich. I have a friend from college that lives here…. Uhhh…..is Ben around?” Shit, I shouldn’t have asked about him. I should have let her tell me whatever information he wants me to know.

“Oh, yes. He is in the car waiting for me. Would you like to come say hello?”

“I—umm… “just say yes.

“Of course you do. Come this way.” Emily turned and begins to walk out the door. 

Fuck. What am I doing? If he only knew the research I’ve done on him since our time together. Watching, the entirety of Sherlock, many of his movies, including The Imitation Game. Which he was Oscar snubbed for. Am I ready to face him in person again? Shit. How are we already at the car?

The driver is standing, holding the door open. Emily hops in the front seat. 

“Are you going to get in?” That voice. It’s lower. He is annoyed. Or trying to mask his nerves. 

Just get in. I move my legs as the driver moves my bag to the trunk, “sir, I won’t be travelling with you.” I tried to stop him.

“It’s alright love. We don’t mind making an extra stop for a friend.” Damn, he looks good. 

“Hi,” A shy smile crawling across my lips, “what are the chances of us running into one another in Germany?” 

“Considering we both travel for work, it’s not that far-fetched.”

“Yes, but Emily told me you aren’t here for work. More for play. I’m jealous. Oktoberfest. I love craft beer-“

“Yes, you told me….”

OK. This is going to be an awkward ride. Simple conversation topics…keep it simple.  
“Where are you staying? My company has put me up in the Platzl Hotel in city center. I’ve never stayed there, but I’ve heard that it is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is. A few friends of mine and I have reserved an AirBNB. We didn’t want to be bothered through the week.”

“Are you going to look at me? You are making me feel weird about being here.” Why did I say that? As soon as he looks at me, I’m going to melt. I’m not going to be able to form coherent sentences. 

“I--,” his voice was calm, and soft, “I am still gathering my thoughts from when we last saw one another. I’ve wanted to call you and ask what happened, but you seemed very sure of yourself upon leaving my flat.”

“Ben, I’m not proud about how I handled that. My life is crazy. I know you are busy, but you also get some say over when you take vacation and a choice on the projects you work on. I don’t. I haven’t been on a real vacation since spring break during my final year of grad school. I’ve spent the last three Christmas’ in hotels. And, I can’t figure out how to make this thing between us make sense. How do you even know you like me?”

“So quit (Y/N). Listen, I can’t make you feel the way I feel. When I saw you at the bar in the Conrad, and the subsequent conversation, and then at my house. I was done. You had me. You have me; if you want. But, I don’t want to be with someone who is consistently miserable and tired and jet-lagged. That’s why I didn’t call. That morning, before Emily arrived, you were in a panic. And that’s not who I saw the night before…”

“I was completely plastered the night before…”

“Before that. We talked philosophy and classics, and old school hip-hop. You had a go with me regarding human morality. If your job can cloud and shroud all of that loveliness with worry and panic, you should quit.” His eyes green now. Softer than before. His hand resting on my knee. 

“I can’t just quit my job. I have responsibilities.” Why am I even considering this? We’ve known each other a month, and only seen one another in person three times.

“What about this week? Take the week off. Come with me. Stay with me and my friends. Try it.” His eyes are now pleading. 

“Ben. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Hand me your mobile.” His voice was stern, “hand it here.”

I watched as he opened my email, “What is the name of your superior?”

“Ted. Allen. Ted Allen.”

I watched as he typed away on my phone. Before he hit send, he flashed the screen my way:  
‘Ted:  
Please accept my apologies. I am unable to meet with the satellite here in Munich. I’m not feeling like myself and think some much needed rest is the cure. I will be available via email and my mobile if an emergency arises. I will be in contact early next week.  
Thanks,  
(Y/N)’

“Cell.” I managed to get out.

“Pardon?” He looked confused.

“Say ‘I will be available via email and my cell’ not ‘mobile’. That doesn’t sound like me…or anyone in Chicago…or the US.”

He smiled, “should I hit send?”

I shook my head. Did he send it? Yep. He sent it.

“Now what?” I was just supposed to hang out around Munich? I wish I was visiting Tahiti for work…

“Now, call and cancel your reservation. You’re going to stay with me. Did you pack anything other than business attire?”

“No. Pajamas.”

“Well, we will have another stop to make.”

What am I doing? Why am I allowing myself to do this? It’s only a week. What could happen in a week?


	3. The Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedict makes a discovery; one that you weren't ready to divulge.

These fucking airports. This time, taking me away from Ben. Taking me away from sleeping in, and staying up late partying. Dancing, laughing, feeling wanted. This airport, taking me away and putting me back in the reality of my life.   
…

I always love the smell of the foyer in my apartment building. It, just, smells like home. Usually, I like to try to take the stairs up to my 10th floor apartment, but I’m tired…in a good way. My legs hurt from dancing. My lower abdomen is still tight from laughter, my hips sore from… oh man. I’m back home.  
Why is the alarm off? I know I left my alarm on. Is someone in the bedroom? Let me set my stuff down, and grab my phone. Who is here? Ms. Karen doesn’t come to clean on Sundays.

“Hey Babe. Welcome home!”

Jason.

“Jason, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“This is my home. Remember? You are my wife. And I was worried. You were supposed to be back on Wednesday, it’s Sunday. How was Munich?”

“Jason, this is not your home anymore. I’m not your wife….”

“You are my wife-“

“On paper! Jason! We haven’t been together in 10 months. Please, just sign the damn papers. I can’t keep doing this with you. I’m tired-“

“Oh really? (Y/N) is tired? Tell me something new. You’re always tired. You’re always moody. You are the reason we didn’t work. I loved you so much and you couldn’t love me back. You couldn’t make room and time in your life for me. Your husband.”

Why is he doing this to me? Why is he ruining the end of my perfect week? My relaxation. 

“You loved me? Huh? So you fuck a 19 year old intern at your law firm? Don’t you dare put your guilt on me. I work hard, just like you! And you NEVER gave me a reason, a REAL reason, to spend time with you. To take time away from work. To enjoy your company. You never took an interest in my passions or my thoughts. You always defaulted to blaming my work. What about your work?! God! You are such a fucking hypocrite! Jason….sign the fucking papers!”

“No. I’m not going to let you get this apartment or the house on the Cape. You are never here and you never visit there. Why do you want them?”

“This is about the property?! Jason, I am fighting to have a life outside of this five year mistake. I am fighting to learn how to really love…myself and others. You have taken so much from me. I wasn’t tired because of work. I have been tired for five years because I have had to put up with your immature, frat boy, entitled BULLSHIT!”

Who is knocking at the door? If it’s a neighbor again, I am going to have to move. He can’t keep popping up like this. 

“Don’t you dare answer my door, Jason!”

“It’s still OUR door, (Y/N).”

He opened the door and Benedict stood, smiling, with a fist full of tulips. Oh shit. I’m so glad to see him, but why is he here? How did he know where I lived?

“Can I help you?” Jason snapped.

Looking from me to Jason, Benedict answered, “I’m here to speak with (Y/N).”

“Who is this? Huh? (Y/N), who is this?!”

“Jason! Leave. It is none of your business. I’m an adult, I can have guests.”

“It is my business. This is my home and you are my wife!”

“Your wife?” Benedict looked at me, confused.

“Who is this Brit son of a bitch?!”

“Jason, go! Please, just leave me alone.”

I have pleaded with him like this time and time again. He is stubborn. He doesn’t like losing. But he has got realize that he has lost me. I’m not his anymore; I’m not sure I ever really was. 

As the door closed behind Jason, Benedict stood silently. His eyes are a cold blue. His Jaw tight and brow furrowed. I want to explain everything to him, but I can’t muster the words.

“I’m sorry…” I can feel myself dropping to the floor in tears. “I keep telling you my life is a mess. I keep saying I have a lot of shit going on.” My head in my hands, I can’t stand to look up at him. He hasn’t moved. He hasn’t said a word. The tears are warm on my face. I haven’t cried like this since I found out my husband cheated on me a year and a half ago. It feels good to get some of this out. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid Ben isn’t going to want to hear my story.   
…

I can hear my water kettle whistling. Who is boiling water? Did Ben stay the night? 

“Good morn- eh afternoon,” Ben looked at me. He was shirtless in pajama pants. He must have stayed the night. Oh, the blankets on the sofa. He stayed out here.

“Did you sleep well?” What a dumb question. 

“No. I didn’t sleep at all. After I gathered you off the floor, I laid you in bed. You cried for hours and I wasn’t sure if it was because the man you think you love had just walked in on your quarrel with another. Or if because the man you love had just walked out the door. So, I didn’t know if I was the right person to console you. But, I knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”

“Ben. I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible for you.” He is cupping his tea with both hands. Not looking up at me. 

“It wasn’t my favorite moment with you over the last week.”

“Would you like to know the story? Would you like to know what it was you walked in on?” He still wouldn’t look at me.

“It looked, to me, like a particularly nasty lovers quarrel between a man and his wife.”

He is angry. Rightfully so. But, either he needs to listen or leave. He can’t stay here and be mean to me.

“Ben. I’m still married to my husband of 5 years. I filed for divorce almost a year ago, and he refuses to sign the papers. We met in undergrad, as kids. Thought we were in love. We married after he graduated law school and I finished my MPP. We worked, hard, long hours. And in the end, he didn’t feel like I was enough for him. I felt like a failure and our young love had turned into something more sinister. It turned into resentment. So, I traveled. I traveled more and more for work. And after months of feeling alone and lonely in this world, I met you.”

I can’t tell if he believes me. Or worse, if he cares. 

“Ben? I really like you. I hoped this part of my life would be closed before you and I got to this point. Last week, my god. Last week you were amazing. You made me feel wanted. And sexy. You were, you are sexy. And sweet, caring, and gentle. And so thoughtful. And now, I feel like I am going to lose you, before I've had a chance to have you."

Silence. This tea is good. Damn, he has always made a great cup of tea. 

“Darling,” a small smile, “I like you. I like more than I should. And this, this is not easy for me to hear. I wish you had told me. We spent hours talking in my flat- - “

“I didn’t want to bring up my divorce and ex on the first date. It didn’t seem like the prudent thing to do when trying to win the affections of the likes of you.”

“You had already won my affections. I, still, feel like I need to win yours.”

“Last week, in the car leaving the airport, you told me that I have you, if I want you. Well, I want you. And now, I need to know, that you want me. Knowing what you know. that I am a mess and have a lot of shit to figure out.”

“See, love,” he placed his teacup on the counter and moved behind me, “if I subscribed to your philosophies then I would be a fool to forgive you. Your intentions may have been good, but the outcome was rubbish.”

His breath on my neck. His hands on my waist. 

“Lucky for me, you have your own ideologies.”

I can’t help myself. I need to kiss him. Spinning around, I catch his eyes, green, almost hazel in this light. Brushing my lips over his cupid’s bow, I crash my mouth onto his. My kiss is met with the same fervor. 

“I’d like it if you show me your bedroom.” Benedict whispered in my ear. My hips quivered and my hands scanned across his shoulders. 

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m furious, darling.” His voice is low and deep, almost a growl. I feel his grip tighten around my hips, “A punishment is coming your way. Now, show me your bedroom!”


	4. The Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Benedict enjoy some time in NYC, before you get a taste of the spotlight.

“Don’t cum until I say so.” 

God, I love this. I love him controlling me, bringing me to the edge and then pulling back. It could be torture, but it just prolongs our love making.

“Ben, I can’t hold out much longer…” I’m breathy, I’m teetering. His pace is steady, but not desperate. He is enjoying filling me to the hilt. Slowly. Rhythmically. His mouth on my neck, moving down to my shoulders, then my pert nipples. The smell of his curls intensifying the pleasure. He smells of scotch and leather. 

What is he doing? “Why’d you stop?!” 

Those eyes. Hoods low. An evil grin curls on his lips. His body is moving down mine. The touch of his fingers on my breast. My stomach. My inner thigh. God, I could cum right now.

“OH…umm….I……” no words are coming to mind. His warm mouth mixing with my swollen clit. “Oh, god, Ben!” His tongue is flicking and his long, nimble fingers are hooked inside of me. Moving in and out, as his tongue slides back and forth. I’m not going to last much longer. 

“I want us to cum together,” He stops sharply, flips me on my stomach and then slams into my from behind. His pace is quicker, now ready to find his end. I’m unraveling, “Ben, I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me…” he’s leaning down to kiss, lick, and suck my shoulders.

My mind is spinning. My release is hard, my body is quivering. Now my legs are shaking, while my body is rocked by aftershocks of my orgasm. He is still thrusting himself deep into me... I can hear his end nearing. 

As he finishes, I can feel his body collapse on mine, “you are divine.” His voice is shallow. He is tired. And happy.  
…

“Are you sure you can’t stay an extra day? I think you need time to recover after what we just accomplished in there. We are in New York, after all. Emily has cleared my schedule for tomorrow.” He is sipping the tea he made. One cup for the both of us. Looking at me knowingly. Knowing that I am going to cancel any plans I’ve made for tomorrow, to spend the day in bed with him. Or, more than likely, on this terrace with him. 

“Ben. I can’t keep rearranging my schedule when we end up in the same city.”

“Yes. You can. I do.”

I do love the New York skyline. Spending a day wrapped in Ben’s arms underneath it doesn’t sound like a terrible plan. 

“(Y/N), I need to talk with you about something.” He looks timid. This must not be good news. “I am going to begin filming the newest season of Sherlock in a couple of weeks back home. I won’t have the down time to travel that I do now.”

“Ok….”

“… in order for us to spend time together, you’ll have to increase your time in London. I, just, won’t have the time to get away.”

“How long does it, typically, take for you to shoot a season?” I can’t just say I’m going to be in the London office. If I have clients elsewhere, I have to be elsewhere. Plus, I have to be available for court dates, as Jason has contested my filing since he found out about me and Ben.

“Four or Five months.”

Lemme check my calendar. Where is my phone? I don’t think I’m in London at all in the next four months. 

“Ben, I’m not sure that will be possible for me. I know that I have to spend a couple of weeks in LA. And I think Tokyo and Istanbul are on the docket too. I don’t think I’m back in London for a while…”

“Well, my love, we will figure it out. But, tonight and tomorrow, we are here. Together. I want to take you out. I want to take you… on a…date?”

“You know I hate dates.” He knows I hate dates.

“Yes, but you and I have never been on a, proper, date. And New York is a wonderful place for one.” His hand caressing mine, “please, let me wine and dine you. Then make love to you in this overpriced hotel suite.”

How can I say no to that? The only time we’ve been out in public together was Munich. And that didn’t count. There was a group of us, and we all blended into the crowd. 

“Ok. Sure.” I can’t help but smile. 

“Perfect. I’ll make arrangements!” I love seeing him so happy. If a date is all it takes to see him smile, then it is well worth it.  
…

This is the absolute fucking worst. These cameras. These assholes yelling the dumbest questions at Ben. At me. Did one of them just make a comment on my weight? Ben isn’t even holding my hand anymore. I just want to get in the car. God, can we hurry and get in the car? 

“What in the hell? That was awful….” My face is hot and I feel tears welling in my eyes.

“Who was that one going on about your weight? Where is he from?!”

He is pissed. I’m pissed. Is this what his life is like? I haven’t seen this. I’ve been locked away in his flat. And private AirBNBs. Sneaking into hotels and welcoming him in through the freight elevator of my apartment. I don’t like this…

“…..(Y/N)? Listen. Don’t think about that. I haven’t prepared you for this part of my life. (Y/N)? Are you listening to me?”

I can hear him, but I’m not listening. 20 minutes ago, I was the only thing on his mind. We had a wonderful dinner. We had great wine. We were consumed with one another. As soon as he saw one camera, he quickly moved his hand off of my leg. He dropped my hand. His posture shifted from relaxed to tense. 

“Benedict?!” That came out more boldly than I anticipated. “Stop. I need to think for a moment.”

Silence is best now. He is angry. I’m confused. Let’s just get back to the hotel….so much for the love making….


	5. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be back soon with another idea, so stay tuned!

I hate airports. For a couple of months, I’d started to not hate them as much. For a couple of months, me being in an airport was my only insurance that I was on my way to Benedict’s arms. Now, since I ended things, I’m back to hating them. Why am I reading this magazine? It’s trash… but he is on the cover. ‘Benedict’s New Babe’. She is pretty. I bet she’s British. I don’t care. I’m not going to read it. Just leave it in the terminal.

Four days in Istanbul. A great city. It’s beautiful. The history of it is dark, but magical. I’ll meet with my client, and take some time to explore. I, at least, got to keep that from Ben; a new found sense of relaxation and adventure. If I work hard, I get to play hard. I should text him…

Me: She’s pretty.

He’s not going to answer. He is probably shooting now. His schedule has been so crazy; partially why I had to throw in the towel. Damn, I miss him. I can’t, though. The photographers. The scrutiny on my life. I had to walk away from it. *Ding*

Ben: You’re funny.

He doesn’t want to talk about her. I’m going to make him.

Me: What’s her name? What does she do? Her thoughts on moral relativism?...

Ben: (Y/N), you’re being mean. 

He’s still mad at me. He’s still upset.

Me: I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean. How are you? How’s filming going? Tell Martin I say Hi!

Ben: Filming is Brilliant. I’ll be sure to relay your message to Martin. My day is eventful, is there anything, in particular, you need?

Oh, he really doesn’t want to talk to me.

Me: No. Have a good afternoon.

Ben: You too, Love.  
…

“You are beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?” 

Who is this guy? Every time I find myself sitting at a bar, some clown thinks I want to be swept off my feet.

“I have a drink, thank you.”

“You’ve got an attitude too. Just like an American….”

“…and just like an American I am immune to bullshit, so please be on your way.”

I’m just going to go up to my room and go to bed. I thought I wanted to get out on the town after Ben was cold via text. I’m, clearly, not in the head space to be around the general public. 

Did I put my phone on the charger before I went downstairs? I need to call Jess. I hate that I missed her baby shower. I hope she liked the crib and changing table I sent. I need to make sure she got it. Seven missed calls? Four voicemails? What is going on?

“(Y/N). I must see you. This is absurd. You can’t text me, out of the blue, after two months of silence. Asking about some tabloid fodder. Where are you?”  
I….. is he…. Should I call him back? Wait, are all of the messages from him?

“I’m sorry I was so short with you earlier. The weather here is dreadful, I suppose that’s nothing new. I’ve been filming long hours and I’m not sleeping properly. I’d really like to speak with you.”

They are all from him. It’s too late to call him now. He needs to get his rest; as much as he can. I will call him in the morning. Yea, we will talk in the morning. That’ll be fine. Now, I can’t sleep. I’ll listen to the first message again. What does he mean he ‘must see me’? Get it together. He is tired, I texted him about some other woman; who, probably, doesn’t mean anything to him. This is why it’ll never work. We are never on the same page about what we want from one another. Just go to sleep….

I can’t sleep…  
…

“(Y/N)? Hello!” Emily is always so pleasant when I see her. “Forgive me for asking, but what are you doing here?”

“I- I… umm…. I’d like to see Ben.” Please, let me in the door.

“He, isn’t awake yet. I was just gathering his mail and about to start the kettle.” She’s not moving from the door. Is she not going to let me in? “Umm… I’m not positive he wants to see you…”

“Emily. I just took a red eye from Turkey. I’m supposed to be courting a potential hire for Exxon-Mobile. Exxon-Mobile! But, I’m here. Please?”

I’ve always loved his flat. The furniture is classic and understated. Every wall is lined with books. The classics, of course, and literature on how the world works. From bee pollination to the human nervous system to car transmissions. Photos of his Mom and Dad, and a few friends. 

His bedroom is bright and his bed is made. Where is he?

“I was afraid my outbursts would cause you to make a foolish decision.” There is levity in his voice. Maybe, he isn’t as mad as I thought. 

“You know all of my decisions are well thought out. A 4:30am flight to London, booked at 3am in Istanbul was a completely sound decision.”

“I’m filming all day. I’m due on set in under two hours.”

I wish he’d put a shirt on. I can’t be cool and collected watching him stand there sinewy and toned. 

“Do you want me to leave?” What if he says yes?

Silence.

"How is Jason?"

“That’s not fair. You know-“

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Silence. 

Why is he looking at me like that? God, what is it about him?

“Listen…” he is walking towards me. His eyes and his voice are soft, “I called you last night because I miss you. This is the second? No, third time you’ve walked out on me. And, here we are, again, two months later standing in front of one another. Not able to look away… And I want to have you… Right now.”

“So, have me….” He didn’t let me finish my thought before his hands found my head and pulled my mouth into his.

“You have to get to set….” I pulled away, my breathing heavy.

“Fuck the set.”

Falling back onto the bed, I realize that he is all I want. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want to feel his hands grip my legs and his mouth cover mine. I love him. And I keep running because I’m afraid that I will get lost in him and lose myself, like I did with Jason.

But, he is different. He is kind and brilliant. Loving and fun. He is…he is… Oh God…. 

“Oh god, Ben! Don’t stop!” His fingers are pulling in and out of me as his tongue is swirling on my clit. I can feel my thighs quiver. His free hand is gripping my ass, tighter as I am growing closer to cumming on his tongue. “If you keep going like this, I’m gonna wet your sheets…” 

“Mmmm, don’t make promises you don’t intend on keeping.” His voice was a low growl, and his eyes are looking up at me from between my legs. I can feel myself teetering on the edge and he lifts his head and pulls his fingers from me. 

Salaciously, he places a finger in his mouth, with his other hand, he is unbuttoning the top of his slacks.

I dip my hand in between my legs, and continue the assault on my clit that he began with is tongue.

“You impatient girl. Remove your hand from there. That is mine now. And I won’t have you undoing the work I’ve started.”

“You are taking too long! I just want to cum, and then to make you cum. And then cum again!” Oh my, I don’t even sound like myself. What has he done to me? Why is he picking up his phone? 

“Emily, call Mark. Let him know I’m under the weather and am unavailable for the next three days. Then, take yourself on a short trip. You won’t be needed for a few days.”  
His eyes never broke contact with mine. They seared into me; telling a story of the ecstasy to come. Revealing his need for me is just as strong as mine for him. As he dropped the phone, his eyes closed.

“Ben? Honey….”

“I need to say something to you without interruption. I would like it if you would listen and know that this is the most vulnerable I’ve been with anyone. Can you agree to that?”

“Of course.” I felt my voice shake.

“I love you. And it’s all I can do to keep from growing crazy every time you run off. I’m so, fucking, in love with you. And, I’d like it, if before I make love to you for the next three days, you assure me that you won’t leave again. No matter what. My life comes with a lot of unexpected shit, but I need you to stick it out with me. I’m in love with you.”

The bed dips, he is sitting next to me, waiting for my answer. 

“Benedict,” I feel the smile sprawl across my face, “I’m not going anywhere, if it’s not for work. I’m done running from you, and from this. And, as your mouth found its way below my waist, it dawned on me that I’m foolishly in love with you too. Now, please make love to me. I’m not sure I can wait much longer.”  
…

I love airports. I love jet setting the globe with my insanely talented and handsome boyfriend. I love the feeling of my hand in his as we walk through the terminal, and how he likes to push the luggage cart. I love that he insists on using one of those silly neck pillows, and refuses to let me buy any liquor in any airport because ‘the price has been inflated beyond a respectable amount’. 

I love airports, because they take me to the next journey with my love. They take us to exotic and wild places. They provide us with a sense of adventure and remind us of the love we tried to deny. They are the perfect conduit to our life together.


End file.
